Little Paris Coffee Shop (UsUk)
by ObeytheCupcake
Summary: He heard the door open up, he instinctively saying "Welcome to Little Paris Coffee Shop, what can I get you this evening?" as he looked down while his wrist flicked in the motion of cleaning the beige colored countertop. "I-I-I work here now." The voice sounded timid. Alfred looked up, seeing the, to Matthew, the 'just okay' individual.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh, for fucks sake…" Alfred muttered under his breath while pressing harshly onto the computer's touch screen. He would always forget how to clear the screen from the orders. The last order he had was a half an hour ago and he was still working tediously on trying to make it disappear from his sight.

It was lunch hour so the coffee shop wasn't too busy at this time.

He wasn't looking forward to tonight at all, either. He had to take a new employee under his wing and show him the ropes of his family's coffee shop. Alfred barely knew how to do what he does now let alone showing someone how to work everything else.

"Matthew!" He shouted, twisting his head around while peering his blue eyes through the opening that lead back to the kitchen. "Help me."

He heard Matthew giggle slightly, throwing his head down slightly while he walked through the arch that lead to the kitchen. He wiped his hands on his black apron that had white flour or powder sugar on the front of it. Matthew grabbed his head, resting it on the counter. "What's the matter?" His brother's soft voice broke out in a small whisper. "Did you fuck it up?" He asked, a little louder this time.

"Yes!" Alfred admitted as he banged his fingertip onto the front of the screen, hitting some button; he didn't even know what he was hitting. "Teach me how to clear this piece of shit out! It's too confusing for my little brain." He said, stepping aside and watched his brothers fingers clear it off.

"See? That's all you do." He said, taking the towel that rested in his pocket, throwing it over his shoulder. "I think I should start working the counter rather than you." Matthew joked, making Alfred nod his head while he jumped up, sitting on the counter's top.

"Yeah!" He said, reaching over and taking a Coca-Cola from the small fridge. "Maybe you should stay and work night shift and teach this new guy some stuff." He opened the soda bottle and took a large gulp, swallowing harshly. He coughed, covering his mouth while he turned his head from Matthew.

"Hell no!" He whispered, not wanting his father to hear his dirty mouth. "I need my sleep. You have fun with him. I've met him. He's okay, really." Matthew said, grabbing Alfred's soda from his hands and taking a small sip. "Ugh, too sweet, don't you think?" He passed it back to him, he shaking his head.

"Well, I need to drink all the sweets I can if I'll be here till six o'clock in the morning _and_ work the day shift, too! What is Dad trying to do, kill me!?" He shouted, taking another sip of the soda.

Alfred looked into the kitchens window seeing his father walking out of the freezer, carrying boxes of something. Probably the dough they made and froze to keep fresh. He sat the boxes down and came out with the other two. "Alfred, get your ass down from the counter!" He took his towel, smacking his leg with it. "Do you really think people want to receive their food once they know your dirty rear has been all over it?" He asked, watching as Alfred sighed loudly.

He grabbed his soda, taking another sip while groaning. While he poured the drink into his mouth, he continued the noise. Matthew chuckled, escaping back into the kitchen after Francis followed. Alfred still proceeded with the noise, making Francis grow annoyed.

"Alfred!" He shouted, he hearing a box being placed into the counter. "Shut up!"

Alfred only chuckled; he wanted to annoy his father for the time being before he threw him into the night shift with this newbie.

Serves him right.

~

Alfred wiped the counter down with a wet rag that was lathered with soap. Before his father and Matthew left for the night, Francis had told him to since his rear was 'dirty' and it needed to be cleaned so it wasn't contaminated.

He grumbled to himself while he did so. Alfred was tired and really didn't want to teach the newbie. He rather Matthew do it since he, for one, had more patience than he did and also was a night type of person. Alfred was only this type once video games were involved.

And plus, this person still wasn't here. He understood that he didn't have to be here till eight o'clock and it was only seven fifty, but still. He thought this night may go by faster if the person was decent to talk to, but Matthew mentioned he was just okay.

'What does just okay mean?' Alfred thought to himself while he continued to scrub the counter. 'Stupid ass Matthew; always too judgmental.' His thoughts continued while he looked at the computer's screen, he seeing that it was cleared since Matthew had made the last order.

He heard the door open up, he instinctively saying "Welcome to Little Paris Coffee Shop, what can I get you this evening?" as he looked down while his wrist flicked in the motion of cleaning the beige colored countertop.

"I-I-I work here now." The voice sounded timid. Alfred looked up, seeing the, to Matthew, the 'just okay' individual.

"Oh. Hey, dude." Alfred said, finishing up the countertop. He placed the rag under the counter where the bucket filled with soapy water was. "I'm Alfred." He pointed to his nametag but placed his finger on the printed black 'D' rather than the 'A' like he intended.

"Hello." The other said, walking up to the counter. "I'm Arthur." His accent was thick and it caught Alfred off guard.

"What's with that accent?" Alfred replied, taking a foam cup from under the counter. He then turned around, filling it to the middle with coffee. He then grabbed some sugar, pouring an endless stream into the cup. "Where you from?" he asked, looking back up at him, seeing his green eyes looking down at the crystal sugar.  
>"England. And you have a… I believe southern accent? What are you doing in New York?"<p>

"I'm originally from D.C. Dad's originally from France, thus the name 'Little Paris'." Alfred informed while he sat the sugar down, opening the cooler's door and grabbed the milk and poured it into the cup along with the sugar and coffee. "I used the word 'thus'. Never in my life did I think I'd use that." He chuckled, taking a plastic spoon to stir his dessert like coffee with. "Whatca waiting for? Come back here and enjoy the party." He said, sarcastically while taking a sip of his coffee.

"O-Oh…" Arthur said while he lifted the gate up, sneaking by while gently letting it back down while he stood by Alfred, looking down at his hands. Alfred noticed his shy behavior, but understood why he was shy. "Do I… Do I need an apron?" he asked, pointing to Alfred's black apron like Matthew had on earlier. Only difference is that his was cleaner.

"Probably. Let me go get you one from the back." He said, going back into the kitchen to search.

Alfred understood where Matthew was coming from. So far, to Alfred, he was a little plain. But again, he understood why but still.

He remembered when the coffee shop had first opened that his father had gathered many black aprons from Michael's Craft Store since they were on sale. He figured they weren't going to have a deal this great for a while so he cleared them out with the black aprons. The only problem is that he couldn't remember where his father had put them.

Placing his finger on his chin, he looked around and remembered his father's small office also had a small closet. He smiled to himself, knowing that's exactly where he would put them.

So, he opened the door that was to the left of the freezer. He made sure to not get the two confused because one would be a terrible mistake.

Once he opened the door, he saw the door that he knew was the closet. Smiling to himself in a triumphant manner, he walked to the door and turned the doorknob. And once he opened it, he also remembered another thing.

They always threw junk and spare supplies into said closet.

So once Alfred opened the door he was tackled by halfway and filled boxes of all kinds. He shouted loudly while boxes all fell around him. "Damn it! Arthur!" He yelled while he covered his head, hearing the cardboard all fall around him with the rustling of whatever was hidden inside these boxes.

"W-What happened?!" He heard Arthur behind him at the doorway, looking in with a shocked expression. Alfred turned around, laughing a bit.

"I was nearly killed by boxes." He said, looking down at one of the boxes, seeing that it had spilled some of its contents. He smiled down at it, bending down and grabbing the picture that was in one of the boxes. He stood back up while he covered his mouth slightly. "…I wonder why he put this here." He said to himself, frowning down at it.


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred pushed the picture towards Arthur with it still locked between his fingertips. "Isn't she pretty?" He asked while Arthur nodded his head, smiling.

"Yes, she's very pretty." Arthur started, looking back up at Alfred whose blue eyes were glued to Arthur's expressions. "Is that your sister or something?" He straightened his stance once again, watching as Alfred folded the picture up, placing it in his pocket. He stretched his arms outward, laughing a bit.

"Ha! She wishes!" He bent down, looking at a few of the opened boxes. Arthur's eyes looked down at the boxes he was shifting through before they moved to his rear that was in front of his view. He blushed a bit. "But no, she's my mom."

Arthur half-smiled and looked back at the boxes while he allowed his hands to cross over and intertwine together in front of him. He saw he had found the black aprons. "Does she work here as well? I don't remember meeting her." He informed, but Alfred shook his head, standing straight up and unfolded the apron.

He shook it; trying to break the deep creases that were in the fabric. "Well, I'm sure if she was still alive, she would be." Alfred smiled weakly, handing him the fabric. He walked over to his father's desk, sitting on the edge of the wooden desk. While he pulled his feet up, taking off his shoes and tossed them to the floor. "I hate shoes. I hate anything on my feet." He went on, taking off his black socks while stretching his toes out.

He did this whenever he worked nightshifts since not many people would come in during this time.

Arthur clutched at the fabric, looking towards the other who kept his eyes on the opened closet. "I-I'm sorry…" He muttered, letting his tight grip on the cloth soften.

Alfred stood back up, taking the black fabric and got behind Arthur, taking the strings and began to tie them behind his neck. "Oh, it's fine! It's been a really long time since then… Like, two years long ago. I can talk about it without getting all sad. My dad on the other hand is another story. Me and my brother are fine, though." He reinsured while he looked at the strings he had tied, he seeing the other's pale skin. He gave it a questionable look; almost jealousy. "Normally, I don't care about skin, but your skin is really soft!"

The other chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and felt the knot. "Really? Well, thanks I guess. I use lotion." He replied while walking out of the office with Alfred behind him. He shut the door. "Are we just leaving that mess in there?"

"Yeah. And I use lotion, too; just not the way you do." He laughed loudly, walking towards the register. He looked down at it, his laughing ceasing. He furrowed his brow, trying to remember how Matthew had cleared it out from earlier.

He covered his mouth with his hand, looking down at it in a deep ponder. He couldn't seem to remember whether or not he had hit the red button or the blue one… But what's this yellow one do?

Arthur looked over his shoulder, watching as Alfred seemed unsure of what he was to do. He picked up on this and wanted to ask what he was musing over, but came to the conclusion to keep his lips sealed; not wanting to give off the impression of being a know-it-all.

He actually liked Alfred. Arthur seemed to really enjoy talking to him so far; he thought he was funny and light hearted which was something he wishes he could be. He would like to tell Alfred why he moved here since he feels that he could build a stronger bridge with him, but he figured it would be too heavy for this evening.

Alfred, on the other hand, was warming up to Arthur as well. "Out of red, blue and yellow, which of these is your favorite?" He looked to the side of him, seeing Arthur looking back at him. Alfred smiled a bit, looking back down at the machine.

"I'd have to say blue." He replied, looking at the back of Alfred's blonde hair. It seemed to be so soft; it looking silky and healthy, making him want to reach out and feel it.

"Alrighty!" He said, going to his wallet and grabbed five dollars, hitting a price button.

They watched as the register's drawer opened up with an assortment of bills of all kinds with a slot for change at the bottom. Alfred flipped the metal piece upward, setting his five dollar bill in with the others and clicked it back down. He then pushed it in, hitting the blue button but nothing happened. "Out of yellow and red, which is your favorite?" He asked, making Arthur chuckle.

"Red." He said, reaching for his own wallet. "Here." He said, offering him another five dollar bill but Alfred pushed his hand up, ignoring it.

"No, I got this." His blonde eyes looked down at it, excited since he finally figured it out. He then did what he did before; placed the money underneath the metal clip and pressed the color that Arthur had chosen.

But it still didn't work; just made the total amount five dollars more than before. He growled to himself, grabbing his coffee before another demonic noise erupted from his throat. "My coffee's cold now." He said, turning around to the sink before snatching the coffee pot and brought it to the countertop. "You like yellow now, okay?" Alfred turned around to him, coffee pot still in his hand.

Arthur smiled, looking down at the flooring. He looked back up at Alfred, seeing his blue eyes still wrapped around his figure. Alfred moved his arm, trying to place the coffee pot onto the counter.

But he missed and dropped the glass container on his foot and the ground; making the glass shatter on his white foot. "Ah! Fuck!" He cried, jumping up on the counter and grabbed his foot, seeing that shards of glass were piercing the top of his skin. His eyes went wide while his lips parted.

Arthur tensed, looking down at his foot, shocked. "A-A-A-Alfred! Holy shit! I'll call 911!" He stuttered, looking around for the phone while he heard Alfred hissing in pain while he clung to his foot. "W-Where's the phone!?"

"Just take me there! It's less embarrassing!"

Arthur turned around, even paler than before. "U-Uh… You sure about that?" He asked, watching as Alfred rolled his head back, clenching his teeth together.

"Fuck! Y-Yes I'm fucking sure!" He said, twisting his body so he didn't face the glass, coffee and blood covered ground. He jumped down on his foot that didn't get any injury while he supported himself up with the counter. "Help me get to my car." He dug into his pocket, grabbing his keys and tossed them to Arthur who lifted the gate up, catching them. "Alfred pointing to the front of the building, feeling Arthur reach under his armpit and grabbed him so he could hope on his abled foot. "It's that gray one, right there."

"O-O-Okay…" Arthur said, opening the glass door. He then opened the car's passenger's door, setting Alfred in there before walking back into the shop and pushed the door open, locking it quickly before running back to the car, opening the other side and started the car.

He then took a deep breath, obviously very tense; more than when the glass hit the floor.

"What's the matter?" Alfred breathed, looking over at Arthur who wouldn't dare look in his direction.

Arthur licked his lips, believing he was sweating. "Legally, I can't drive in America!"

He slapped his forehead. "You're kidding me, right?!" Alfred looked over at him, leaning against the black chair, sighing. "Well," He started, looking back out of the dashboard's glass. "It can't be all that different, right?" He looked back over at Arthur who was looking at him, almost contemplating whether he should ask the question.

He thought it was pretty relevant.

"….Which side do I drive on?"


End file.
